


Burdens

by Chericola



Category: Sevenwaters Trilogy - Juliet Marillier
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, Lots of Angst, and pain, set during the curse years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29059710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chericola/pseuds/Chericola
Summary: Conor's thoughts during the early years of the curse.
Relationships: Conor & Finbar, Conor & Sorcha
Kudos: 1





	Burdens

Conor watched his brothers from where he was perched on one of the grimy rocks that cluttered the lake's far shore. He knew each one of them; could recognise them instantly however similar they looked to one another now. Liam was curled up some feet away, nibbling at something hidden away underneath his wing. Food, most likely, that he did not want the others to find and steal from him. Cormack and Padriac were two white blurs in the distance, jabbing at each other as they flew through the air, making spirals above the water. Conor did not know what for, and it did not matter; they were animals, and they acted by instinct.

He did not know where Diarmid had gone; to hunt, most likely. It had become his habit of hunting before the sun was fully up, so that he could rest under the shade of the trees that overlooked the lake. Finbar sat curled in the water close to him, his orange beak tucked into his wing, his liquid eyes closed. One would believe he was sleeping, if not for the shivers that ran through his avian body at irregular intervals, and the tightness of his body. His visions were plaguing him again, as they had every other day. It was cruel, too cruel. But he could do nothing, though it pained him to do so.

Conor scanned the edges of the lake for any signs of Sorcha, the sister he had unwittingly helped doom to a dangerous path. A large part of him wanted to see Sorcha, wanted to see that she was alive and not at Oonagh's mercy, as he and his brothers were. He wanted to tell her everything would be alright, and not to fear for them. He needed her to explain exactly what the lady Oonagh had done, and if they would ever be human again. For surely she had to have some idea of the end of this madness?

He could not hear her thoughts at all, but he could still feel her emotions. Conor closed his eyes as they flooded his heart. Fear, sadness, anger at the lady Oonagh, distress at her brothers' apparent fate, determination… they all entered him, so potent, and jagged with a strong undercurrent of pain. Anguish swelled in him, of his own making. He couldn't bear it, couldn't bear those fierce emotions, knowing that it was he who had helped cause them. He couldn't stand it any longer, so he closed his mind to them all, and breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of Sorcha's emotional pain, while fighting to control the stabs of apprehension in his heart.

At least she was alive, he told himself. That was something he had done right at least. His warning—and Finbar's—had saved Sorcha's life. He recalled Sorcha running, deep into the forest, as far as her legs could take her, Linn bolting madly at her heels, as Oonagh's spell crawled up his torso and around his chest and arms, paralyzing him, changing him...

A shiver ran down his spine. Conor did not think he could ever forget it, that moment of the changing, of arms becoming wings and legs becoming webbed flippers. He would never forget those first moments on the lake, when he realised that he, among all his brothers was the one exception to Oonagh's claim that they would lose all memories of their human lives. He would never forget the pain that ached in his heart then at the knowledge that his brothers did not know him.

Guilt surged in his heart. 'You have failed them, little druid. You have failed them all.' Oonagh's words resurfaced in his mind, clear and triumphant. She had been taunting him, gloating over her victory over him and his siblings, but her words had rung true. Though it was Oonagh who had cursed them, it was Conor who had led them all to that clearing, and who had convinced Sorcha to call the Lady of the Forest in a ritual which brought Oonagh to the clearing instead.

Conor pushed away the guilt. Guilt did nothing to help them; nothing could be done by thinking of what he could have done differently. It was their safety- his and his brothers'- that he had to ensure.

It was the only thing he could do now.


End file.
